a script to follow
by Irrwisch
Summary: In the Beginning, God created everything. Of course that meant some things got less attention - angels being one of them. They were all blank states, with only the knowledge to follow His every order. But then, an angel asked a question. There would be no judgement in his voice, just open and honest curiosity. And it scared Him.


There was only Him in the Beginning. One might even argue that without Him, there wasn't a Beginning at all. After all, He started the story. He wrote the first word, so He _was_ the Beginning. Yes, that had a nice touch to it. Of course, no one who would ever write down the story of the universe would put these words down on paper, but that's what He was for. He'd make sure the story was remembered right – even if there would never be anyone to read it. It would have been written; and whatever was written would be the truth.

So, the Beginning began with Him. He never wondered how He came to be or if there had ever been a "before", but that hardly mattered. He made himself a sister, and she was supposed to be a contrast – the Darkness, the thing to end it. Not that she knew that, of course, and she would always firmly believe she had been created at the very same moment as her brother. He imagined even the Darkness was allowed to have fantasies – after all, it's not like she'd ruin His story. And, obviously, a story needed more characters. So, He made more. Four seemed to be a good number – they would call Him their Father, and He rather liked the sound of that. He jotted down a few characteristics for them: Michael, the stead-fast son; Raphael, the dutiful one; Gabriel, the wreckful one; and Lucifer, the fallen one. The last one was His favourite. There was so much potential and he fantasised about Michael and Lucifer on the battlefield- fighting to the death. It would be a wonderful end – one brother killing the other. He wondered who would emerge victorious. Would it be the older one, finally fulfilling his destiny of saving the world? Or would it be the younger one, breaking free and destroying everything? He had to admit, the possibilities had His fingers tremble. But, He had to calm Himself. There was no need to rush. There were millennia to be filled with glorious story-telling first. And who knew what ideas He might pick up along the road? Of course, they would need some sort of guide-book. They needed to know in what direction to go – He couldn't allow them to mess up. So, He would be so kind and write them a book that they could follow.

But how would the brothers fight? A fight without reason and context seemed too boring to be the grand finale. So, He would need to conjure up a reason. Good ideas couldn't be rushed though. Maybe He could test something else first. Was sibling-infighting really as satisfying as He hoped? Luckily, He had conjured Himself up a sister. So, He started a fight with her. Easy to do – just make her believe He replaced her with His sons. He wrote it in – and so it was.

Needless to say, it was thrilling. Not a real threat, of course, and being involved was certainly different from merely watching, but – He knew this was how it would end. One sibling, pitched against the other – wonderful. It would even be better if they were close. How utterly delightful it would be. He sighed. He could barely wait, but He knew – the wait would make the end even sweeter.

However, the meantime needed to be filled, and one couldn't expect Him to do _everything_ – He was only interested in the main story, what should He care about the side-plots? So, more characters. Nothing to defined, of course, they just needed to move the plot along. He took the First Four, and made more of them – weaker, obviously. They weren't supposed to hold a big part in the story anyway, so why waste anything on them? There would need to be a lot of them however, there would be many side-plots that needed over-seeing. And there might even be infighting, which would just be so wonderful.

Michael and Raphael would assist Him making more of their siblings while Gabriel and Lucifer banded together – oh, maybe Gabriel would turn his back on them too – two versus two, wouldn't that be wonderful? The First Four to be the last? What was the Beginning would also become the end. This story got better and better.

He decided to call them angels. They needed a name, He decided. He would be God, and they would be His angels. It would give them purpose. The First Four would be Archangels, and He left it to them to establish ranks in-between the lower angels – He didn't really care what they would call themselves. He realised they all needed individual names, too, and that was a chore, but – a character without a name wasn't really a character at all. So, they all got names. He did decide to leave them blank though: the only thing He put into them was the order to follow His every word. With that, He made sure His story would make it through to the end, without interruptions or interference.

They would all be soldiers, in one form or the other – warriors of Heaven. He liked that word. Heaven. It sounded special. So, they all gathered in groups with the First Four and started learning. He wrote the guide-book they would all be following in the meantime. Before He really got started on Earth and whatnot, the angels needed the guidance of His book.

"Lord Father!" He looked up as Gabriel came running to Him. "He – he asked a question." He stilled. A question. An angel, a blank character with just a name, had asked a question. No. That wasn't possible. And yet, here Gabriel was, almost out of breath even though he didn't need to breathe. He got up. The book could wait. Gabriel led, and He followed. Did something go wrong? Did He accidentally start creating characteristics for a few of the blank states? Gabriel led Him to his group and there was the angel – He spotted him almost immediately. The other angels had withdrawn from him; and stared blankly ahead. "Ask him", Gabriel commanded the angel. "Ask him what you asked me." The angel obeyed, and looked up.

There was light in his eyes. There was a light that shouldn't exist within a blank state. It was... there wasn't a word for it yet, He hasn't invented that hitherto. "Why do we need to fight?"

There was no judgment in his voice, just open, honest curiosity. And that, perhaps, scared Him the most. This angel just wanted _to know_. He looked like all the others – truly some unidentified form – He hadn't had time to give that a proper form yet – but there was more inside of him. It almost seemed like – like his pieces didn't stick together. There were cracks all over him, and in-between the cracks, there – there shone a light; and it almost blinded Him. He snapped His fingers, and the question never existed.

The light stayed, however.

And it evoked a feeling inside Him.

_Fear_.

He returned to His book, but His mind was filled with other things. Where did the light inside the angel come from? He didn't put it there, He would've remembered. Why was he the only one with it? And, most importantly, what did it mean? He looked down to His book. He could just erase the angel. But what if the light stayed? What if it lingered on? No, it was perhaps best to let it stay contained inside that angel – it would be easier to observe. But the angel went against his character. It was, in all of history, the first thing that went against the story.

An angel went by. "You", He commanded, "state your name." The angel stopped and bowed her head. "Naomi, Lord Father." That was good. She seemed dutiful. There was no light inside her. She would make sure the angel of light would stay in his place. And so, Naomi was among the first angels to receive a place inside the Heavenly Host. Of course, He forgot her name immediately after she said it – the only importance was that the light stayed contained. The threat was eliminated. Very good. Now, He could return to His book.

There came no more fuss from the light-angel, so He gradually forgot about him. The book was finished, so now it was time for Him to leave the scene. The earth was ready to start, and He could finally start watching from the sidelines. Hopefully the end would be as thrilling as He had imagined. Lucifer had fallen; and Michael was preparing for a battle that was millennia in the making. It was simply wonderful. He hadn't noticed that Gabriel has gotten jittery – He hadn't written that, so it escaped His notice.

Humanity was to unfold; and He could barely wait for the time when Sam and Dean Winchester would finally arrive on the scene – the Harbingers of The End.

He left Heaven in all stillness and would spend centuries making sure every detail of the Winchester's life would be just _delightfully_ perfect.

But then, there was the fish.

It was just a stupid fish – well, yes, the beginning of life on dry land; but still, just a stupid fish – and two angels, walking the shoreline. And – a choice. A choice that shouldn't be considered. "Do not step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish." There was – a "what if". It was the light-angel; the one He had forgotten about. To be honest, He didn't remember him even now. But the angel _made a choice_. It decided not to step on the fish. But it could have. It thought, if only for a second – _what if I do step on it? _

It was terrifying. But He hoped it would be a singular experience. A minor fault in the wiring, if you so will. It couldn't be anything to worry about. Only – the angel kept happening.

The Seven Plagues.

Noah and the ark.

Sodom and Gomorrah.

Isaac and Abraham.

David and Goliath.

And so many more.

He, of course, was punished for each and every single one of them – the angel Naomi did her job well. Just... the angel didn't stop. The light never dimmed. It never followed His story, and He had to keep making adjustments. The angel didn't exactly interfere with the endgame, but – his pure existence was quite... disturbing. The cracks inside of the angel grew every time, just a little bit, but – the light got brighter. The angel changed the world around him. It was alright, though. This was all just pre-amble. Once the Winchesters came along, this angel would be no problem any longer.

Dean Winchester is saved.

It was an echo that rang through all of the Heavenly Host and He was delighted that the End would finally begin. The begging of their story had just been as He'd written it, but now it would really get going. Oh, just how would Sam react to the Demon Blood? He knew already, of course, but it would be so thrilling seeing it in person! Seeing the despair, seeing it in his eyes – it would be a joyous moment.

And yet.

The angel who rang the echo, the one who saved the Righteous Man – it was the light-angel. The angel's name was Castiel. He wasn't supposed to make it out, like almost all of his brothers. And yet, he pulled through; he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition – that's not what He wrote! But, there was no need to worry. In fact, it might actually be useful. Castiel would serve Dean as an introduction to the angels; and then Anna would take over; and Castiel would die. And then, the light would be gone, and the problem solved.

Only – he didn't. When he was supposed to die, he didn't. He lived. Anna saved him; something she wasn't supposed to do. And then, Castiel started taking her place – didn't he see how he messed that all up? Two brothers – the one with the demon, the other one with the angel. Castiel couldn't be Ruby's counterpart!

Anna was re-educated. Anna turned mad and wanted to ruin His story – naturally, she had to die. But, Anna shouldn't have been re-educated. That wasn't in His story. The Host wasn't supposed to find her, but they did. And now, Castiel had truly taken over Anna's part. He wasn't Ruby's counterpart, but he was Dean's Angel. But it was okay. It was still salvageable. They were still moving towards the end – they fought against it, yes, but they still moved towards the end. Not quite like He imagined, but still, the End was the End. He was even a little bit impressed by the light-angel. The cracks have gotten bigger, but he would be dead soon, anyway. After the story was over, what was left to fear for Castiel to mess up?

Only – it wasn't the End. Lucifer killed Castiel, Sam saved the world and Dean went to Lisa. It was over. The End. Only – Castiel returned to life. Castiel rescued Sam out of Hell – bar the soul, of course, He had held that back. But – Castiel willed himself back to life. He just _came back_. The words were there, on the page He just wrote, but He hadn't wanted to put them there. But there was no taking them back now, no deleting them – Castiel was alive.

He needed to get rid of him. He was messing up a beautiful story. And now they needed another end, another Apocalypse. Fine.

Only – Castiel stopped that. The light-angel stopped the second Apocalypse all on his own, when He made sure Dean and Sam were as far away from helping as they could be. But, at least, he died after that, so finally – He was rid of the cracked angel.

Only – he returned. Emmanuel was supposed to be a normal man, gifted with special powers. He and Daphne had a nice little back-story – met in Church, fell in love, blah blah blah, married and were probably trying for babies – but then Emmanuel looked like the light-angel; and he _was_, he just didn't remember and Dean recognised him. And then, the light-angel remembered, fixed Sam and put himself in exile. At least something. Now, a crazy Castiel wouldn't be able to mess with the wonderful storyline with the Leviathans – maybe He should be grateful to Castiel for giving Him the opportunity for such fine monsters. They were basically nothing but teeth!

Only – Castiel slipped into the ending, again. He, as the sole being in the Universe, survived the Leviathans and could see them all, now and forever. He could only watch as Castiel was there, right in the thick of it, even though he wasn't supposed to exist.

And every time after – every time after He put him into time-out for whatever reason – Castiel returned. He messed up every ending He had in mind for the Winchesters, and He couldn't even get rid of him. And then – Jack. There was a being that wasn't supposed to exist at all. But it did. It existed because Castiel made it so. So, He placed stones onto Jack's path. And luckily, Jack was a lot easier to control than Castiel – not as easy as Sam or Dean, but still, easier. He even died when he was told.

Only – Castiel returned his soul. Castiel revived the child. Castiel messed up an Ending, yet again. Maybe it was time He Himself interfered. Maybe He should erase Jack Himself. But first, a safety measure. Castiel always returned. So, what if the light-angel had nothing to return to? Yes, of course, He couldn't kill Dean – that'd be a very weak ending. But what if Dean _made_ Castiel leave? Then Castiel would stay away, right, and not mess up the End again. So, Dean blamed Castiel for everything – He didn't bother with logic or sense, this was Dean after all, just a manly man with no finer print – and He killed Jack. It was too bad Dean didn't pull through with that – it would have made Castiel leave a lot fast. But, oh well. There are always multiple ways to achieve a goal in writing. Castiel made Him learn that.

So, through Dean, He was finally able to tell Castiel that it was him who ruined everything. He did let Dean choose the words – that would make it more plausible – but it was His intent. And as expected, Castiel left. Oh, how delightful. Now He could go back to the real Winchesters, without the light-angel interfering. But it was hard to write. It was a struggle; it never used to be a struggle before. And even Sam pointed out that something felt wrong. But why? Dean acted like Dean; and Sam acted like Sam. It's not like they changed since He began the story, so He didn't understand why they were so resistant against things they've always done.

It didn't matter. He would get His perfect Ending. It was all written. Castiel was _finally_ gone, and He could concentrate on the brothers. He would get His brother-killing ending, He just would!

He didn't look at the light-angel again, but he was not even worth a mention. Castiel would stay away from this end, and the end would finally work out.

But in the end, the light-angel would be there, light brighter than ever before. There were no cracks anymore, and the light would shine brightly in his eyes.

"Why do we need to fight?"

There would be no judgment in his voice, just open, honest curiosity. And that, perhaps, would scare Him the most. This angel would just want _to know_.

And maybe, in all of creation, Castiel was the sole being that was truly free.

And He wondered – if Castiel would have needed to write the story, what would it look like? Would it – "We're making it up as we go."

There was no script, not for Castiel.

Castiel made his own story.


End file.
